My Mockey Night
by SpencerChase
Summary: Which one of you wants to…no, let me rephrase, which one of you is going to explain what happened to my husband?" A fic challenge response.


This is from a challenge presented on another website. The goal was to take a photo and then create a story around it that 1) consists *only* of dialogue and 2) is under 1000 words. I'm honestly not sure I should be sharing the results ;) but…I wanted to let those of you who have been reading my other fic "My Perfect Day" that I am working on it, and the next chapter should be up soon!

Oh! If you want to know what picture this is based off, you can see it by going to my profile and then hitting the "homepage" link.

My Mockey Night

"Which one of you wants to…no, let me rephrase, which one of you is going to explain what happened to my husband?"

"Well, you see it all started when…"

"If you value your life, Bonnibelle--and I rah-heally can't for the life of me figure out how you possibly could considering how pah-and-may-I-add-thetic a commodity that is--you will not continue this story."

"And, hello! Dr. Cox isn't the only one who was hurt here, tonight!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sweet Cheeks! And here I thought you had grown a pair and were making some sort of statement with that finger…but now I can go back to just not caring about you."

"Oh…go frick on a stick!"

"Awwww. Now there's a tough wittle girl. I could just pinch your cheeks…"

"Frick you!"

"Ah-heny-hoo. Nothing happened. Nothing for you to worry about."

"I didn't say I was worried, Per. I thought you were just having a simple little pizza party with your little friends."

"It was to discuss the new SOPs for Sacred H--"

"You know, I don't really care. I just want to know how it is that you've come to have both a broken leg and a broken arm. More importantly, I want to know why it is that I am going to be stuck doing all the house work for the next six weeks."

"We have a maid!"

"Yes, but I'll have to call her and ask her to work more hours to pick up your slack. So, you! DJ! What happened?"

"Oh, well, see, he got hurt..."

"Well thanks, DJ. That explains a lot!"

"…When he fell off the giant chicken."

"I didn't see your head tilt, but I'm still guessing that this is one of those times that you're off in fantasyland? Oh now stop tilting your head! All right, so DJ's out, so who's going to explain? You? Nurse Whatever."

"He fell off the giant chicken! HA!"

"Don't mind her. She's…had a little bit too much."

"A little, Gandhi?"

"Okay, a lot, but she wouldn't have if she hadn't been in so much pain from when you landed on her."

"Let me get this straight. You landed on Carla after falling of a giant chicken?"

"Oh, no. He landed on her after falling off the windmill."

"Wait, now. Let me guess. Was this a giant windmill?"

"No. Rather small, actually. As far as windmills go. Smaller than the chicken, I think."

"Giant chicken, teeeeny tiny windmill. HA!!"

"You're not really helping, Nurse Turkelton."

"And that's why they don't allow pillows in locker rooms…"

"Oh look, DJ's head is untilted. You're back with us. So tell me about the giant chicken and the tiny windmill. No! Don't you tilt your head again!"

"I think I can help."

"You? Help? Isn't that a bit out of character for you?"

"No, ma'am. I aim to please. It is my lot in life. And a janitor's lot is not an 'appy one."

"'Appy one. HA!"

"Right. So, on with it. Tell me why my husband was…on a giant chicken?"

"His puck was stuck and we had a rule to play it from where it lands."

"I'm probably going to regret asking, but…his puck?"

"Yes, ma'am. We were trying out the new sport I invented. It's a cross between miniature golf and hockey. I call it Mockey. Or maybe Mini-Gockey. Mini-Hockolf?"

"I'd stick with Mockey."

"Thank you, bald doctor with abnormally small head."

"Bwahahahaha. It's funny 'cuz it's true!"

"Honey! My head is *not* small."

"Oh, now, it's not so bad, Turkelton. Just be glad that it is or the tee probably would have hit it instead of your chest."

"Look out, Senior Quixote!"

"DJ?"

"Sorry, it's a windmill thing…"

"Right. The windmill. You all are telling me that you hit a hockey puck, it got stuck on top of a giant chicken and my husband had to climb on top of it so he could play through?"

"Oh, no. You misunderstand, Missy. Perry didn't hit it. I did. It was a great shot, too. Banked right off the janitor's head and then just popped right on up there."

"And that's how you got a black eye, I presume?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So if Dr. Kelso's puck got stuck, why did Per have to climb up to hit it?"

"It was in his zone. V-Bear almost got it for the steal, but he slipped."

"Turk! It wasn't my fault! The chicken was all greasy…"

"Zzzzp! Is that how you hurt your eye?"

"No, ma'am. That was me. I hit him."

"Not that I have any problem with it, but was there any particular reason?"

"Eh. He was there. Hurt my fist, though…Hmm. Still worth it. Besides, no game of Mockey is complete until a fight breaks out."

"You two got into a fight over this game?!?"

"Just for the record, there was no fight. He hit me, I went down. End of story."

"Not quite. You forgot how you went down and in the process knocked over the giant chicken."

"Turk!"

"The giant chicken that my husband was climbing so that he could get to a stupid hockey puck?!? A hockey puck, Perry?"

"It was for the win!"

"Yeah, you're a winner all right, there, Per. So it was worth it to fall off a giant chicken and break your…how did you break one arm and the other leg if you just fell down once?"

"Well, see--"

"Zip it! You will ahab-so-lutely not continue that--"

"It kind of landed on him…"

"They had to use the jaws of life to get him un-pinned."

"Took about an hour."

"That chicken will never be the same…"

"And that's how we got banned from Chuck E Cheese."

"Dare I even ask about the golf club around Dr. Kelso's…no. You know what? Never mind. I don't care. I'm out."

"Well she took that well."

"Yeah. Oh, and Newbie?"

"Yeah?"

"You are never eh-hever, Eh-VER to speak of this again. Agreed?"

"Agreed."


End file.
